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<title>come rest your bones next to me by emm_ack</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243707">come rest your bones next to me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emm_ack/pseuds/emm_ack'>emm_ack</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Crying, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Hatred, hypermobility</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emm_ack/pseuds/emm_ack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Why him? Why was it that he couldn’t be healthy? That he was defected, branded with this illness? He wished to be like his teammates so desperately, his heart beginning to erode from jealousy. He hated them all for having what he didn’t. He even hated Atsumu, whose smell was still in his sheets from the night before, the feeling of his lips so permanently burnt into the front of Kiyoomi’s brain. Atsumu, who never looked at him any different.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>come rest your bones next to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gray.</p><p>Kiyoomi Sakusa’s world was gray. Maybe not in the literal sense, but he saw most things with a dull hue, pessimism choking him and keeping him in its abusive hold, their relationship unhealthy but never failing. He wasn’t sure when it started, or when it would end, but it was simply how he perceived the world and those around him. Perhaps it had something to do with his distaste for dirt and germs, or his standoffish nature. Maybe it had something to do with his personality.</p><p>And yet the true culprit was invisible. A burden he felt he had no right to bear, one that dragged him under the waves and wouldn’t let him up for air. The ever present ache in his joints was a hushed secret that few were aware of, but one that haunted him every moment just the same. Most of the time it wouldn’t bother him, he would go about his life and deal with it day by day, only hindered as much as he let himself be. But some days were worse than others, worse in ways he had no control over.</p><p>His frail body sickened him. He looked in the mirror and a mental sense of nausea fell over him. His naked body was damp from the shower, and as he looked it over he didn’t see bare skin and toned muscles. He saw bones. Joints. Muscle. He saw inside himself, he saw things turn and slip inside their sockets. He saw them pop out, imagining the times that they had, and how ashamed he’d felt. How embarrassed he was when he got surrounded on the court, concern painted on the faces of others, his head blurred with pain and his chest burning with self loathing. </p><p>Why him? Why was it that he couldn’t be healthy? That he was defected, branded with this illness? He wished to be like his teammates so desperately, his heart beginning to erode from jealousy. He hated them all for having what he didn’t. He even hated Atsumu, whose smell was still in his sheets from the night before, the feeling of his lips so permanently burnt into the front of Kiyoomi’s brain. Atsumu, who never looked at him any different.</p><p>That irritated him the most. The indifference in the other’s gaze whenever he looked at him. No, not indifference… Amazement. Respect, maybe? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it wasn’t the sympathy or the pity that was usually tucked away in the eyes of those who looked at him. It was like Atsumu didn’t realize he was ill at all. Like he didn’t see the way Kiyoomi limped sometimes, or how he needed to sit down more often. He bore not a hint of that pity even when Sakusa tripped over his own two feet right in front of him and jammed his shoulder. He simply helped him back up and let him cuss openly about how he could no longer move his arm.</p><p>Why wasn’t he like everyone else? Couldn’t he simply perpetuate him when he wallowed like everyone else instead of coaxing him out of it? Was this why he’d been so willing to go along with their slowly forming relationship?</p><p>“Mirror’s not goin’ anywhere, you don’t have to keep watchin’ it.” A familiar voice said from the doorway to the bathroom, which was open and attached to Kiyoomi’s bedroom. He jumped, quickly turning to Atsumu with a frown set in his expression, eyes reddened as if he had been seconds from crying, which he indeed was. He didn’t respond, only staring at the other with a clenched jaw, his fists balled at his sides, angry that he’d been interrupted from his train of ugly thoughts about himself. Atsumu noticed this, letting out a hearty sigh that blew right through Kiyoomi’s bones, gifting him a chill that ran up his spine. Or maybe he was simply cold from being wet and exposed to the air of the bathroom, save from the towel around his waist. </p><p>There was tension, now, because Atsumu was aware that something was going on. That something in Sakusa’s head had been knocked loose during the night and he wasn’t the same as he had been when their limbs were intertwined the night before. Even with how dense he could be, it was obvious when Kiyoomi was being unkind to himself internally. Atsumu could pick up on it in the way the lines creased on his forehead. “Just tell me what it is so we can talk about it and you can stop lookin’ like a kicked dog.” Atsumu finally said when the other refused to break the ever tightening silence. </p><p>“I don’t look like a dog.” Kiyoomi spoke almost immediately, and it was almost amusing how that was the part he had picked up on. Atsumu must have thought that as well, giving a small chuckle that offended Sakusa to a degree that was quite normal in their dynamic. He knew the chuckle wasn’t meant to demean him, but at the moment he felt as if that’s what everyone felt inclined to do, or maybe he felt as if he deserved it in some capacity. Either way, he took it in the wrong direction, wrapping his arms around himself and turning his back to Atsumu.</p><p>“Maybe a cute one.” This was accompanied by Atsumu’s presence appearing behind Sakusa, his hands on the fabric of the damp towel around his waist. And yet, that wasn’t at all what the other wanted to hear, his body tensing to a degree that made even Atsumu shy away, the silence appearing to once again build until it was broken. And why wasn’t Kiyoomi ever the one to do so? “Omi. Tell me what’s wrong.” Atsumu murmured, a bit of a break in his voice, it becoming evident how concerned he was, since he’d never known Sakusa to act in such a way.</p><p>“I feel old. Like an old man, my body.” Kiyoomi eventually scoffed out, running his hand up and down his own arm slowly, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “My body’s broken. I’m just a defect, I shouldn’t be on the team.” He rattled off all of the dark thoughts that had been looming in the back of his head since he first looked in the mirror that morning after limping out of bed on aching joints. He knew they weren’t true, and part of him wondered if he was simply saying these things to force that look of sympathy out of Atsumu. To force that crease of pity in his brow.</p><p>Hands fell onto his upper arms, gently turning him to face the slightly foggy mirror once again. Atsumu was behind him, and his expression wasn’t anywhere near what Kiyoomi had expected. It was open, kind, and he wore a soft smile as he ran his hands down Sakusa’s arms until he reached his wrists. “You worked for this,” He began, lifting both of the other’s arms and beginning to bend and stretch them gently, “You trained your body, that’s why you can play, right? That’s why you’ve been so successful?” The questions loomed in the air like little clouds of smoke that Kiyoomi didn’t dare inhale just yet- so he held his breath while Atsumu ran his hands over his skin. His bone. Joints. Muscle. “You’re not broken, you work just fine.” He pointed out blatantly as he rotated Sakusa’s shoulder and bent his elbow. “I mean, yeah, it probably hurts a bit, and maybe you’re a lil’ bit more fragile than me, or Hinata, or Bokuto. Doesn’t mean you’re broken, or a defect, for god's sake.”</p><p>Kiyoomi’s throat ached, his eyes burning. Since when did Atsumu know what to say? Since when was he not just a dumb blond who didn’t know when to close his mouth, spouting hearty nonsense? Since when did he know how to calm Sakusa down, to press down the ugly parts of his brain and replace them with truth and reality? He didn’t know he was crying until the warm tears were already making their path down his cheeks, because it was like Atsumu knew how it felt. Like maybe he’d spent a day in Kiyoomi’s body and could remember how the dull ache and the constant popping took a toll on his mental state. How it boiled his emotions with the lid on until he finally opened it, getting scorched by the steam. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, Omi..! I’m sorry.” Atsumu said quickly as he pulled back, but Sakusa could only shake his head, his wet curls bouncing back and forth as he reached behind himself and pulled the other back to him.</p><p>“No, it’s… It’s okay.” He rasped, looking down at the floor, and Atsumu seemed to understand in that moment that Kiyoomi’s tears had a different meaning than sadness or grief, or even agony. That they were more a result of how greatly Atsumu’s words painted relief across his soul. It was then that he felt the other’s lips on his shoulder, then his elbow, all the way to his wrist. He lingered at the latter, his soft, warm breath washing over the skin.</p><p>“This is yours, alright? Don’t go wastin’ it just ‘cause it hurts sometimes. That’s just stupid.”</p><p>“It hurts all the time.” Kiyoomi deadpanned.</p><p>“Point still stands.” He sighed, pressing a few kisses to the other’s wrist, lingering there as if he was placing all his affection into one area. “You get through every day and you’ve made it here, so, yeah.” He concluded, his wording simple but just enough to remind Sakusa of the truth, and what was really important. The fact that he was still functional, not broken. He could still move just like anyone else, he just needed to put more care into how he moved to keep himself healthy. Gingerly, he turned around to face Atsumu.</p><p>“You’re an idiot.” He smiled as he cupped his face, something brighter hidden in his dark eyes that wasn’t there before Atsumu had entered the room. The other pouted, ever childish, and Kiyoomi gave a laugh. A pure, true laugh that was rare to hear by anyone, and it truly did make Atsumu’s heart race in his chest. It was like puppy love, which he knew would make Sakusa sick if he said it, but it was true.</p><p>“Fine, yeah, I’m an idiot.” He relented, the blood rushing to his cheeks, causing his face to glow a lovely shade of pink. If Kiyoomi was a fool, he wouldn’t have caught it, and yet he did.</p><p>“An idiot who smells like ass,” He said, crippling the moment entirely, “Now get in the shower or I won’t let you anywhere near me for the rest of the day.” He deadpanned, stepping out of the bathroom and allowing himself to get dressed.</p><p>That was the one thing that made his world colorful. That thieved the gray hue from everything around him.</p><p>Miya Atsumu.</p>
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